Goodbye, Uncle

It has been a very emotional weekend for me, leaving Mrs RRD and the kds and flying off to be with my cousins, as they said their final farewell to their father. Meeting family that I haven't seen for many years, seeing the children I have never seen before, reminiscing, laughing, crying.

And seeing one of my family, his life changed forever about two and a half years ago, the motorbike he loved and cherished turning against him for one, fateful moment, a moment that echoes through time, and through the generations. I sit with him, talk with him, not expecting a reply. He is gone: what remains is a husk of the man I once knew.

And then back to the house of mourning; pictures, memories evoked by a chair, by a sound, by my sadness.

Goodbye Uncle.

Confessions Part 2

I need to get Princess RRD to the train station - she's meeting all her friends and going to Thorpe Park. But it is REALLY early, and I'm feeling rather grouchy. In an effort to give the impression that I am happy to be getting into my car at 7 in the morning, when I could have had a nice long lie-in (to 7:30), I graciously move my car away from the bush that is blocking her passenger door. I reverse out of the space, and hear the sickening crunch of metal against metal. Bugger!!!

I jump out of my car and hurry round to the rear, spitting expletives as I go. Can anyone guess who's car I have hit?? Yep, Mini-RRD's!!!!! I cannot believe it!! How on Earth am I going to own up to this one? Here am I, rapid response driver, constantly correcting his driving, telling him to check his mirrors, ete, etc., and I'VE HIT HIS CAR!!!

Ok, regroup. Check damage: My car - big dent in bumper, could fit my head it in (or someone else's.) His car - tiny scratch. That's it? How ridiculous! I am now going to drive around with a car that looks like it came off worse in a Demolition Derby, and he gets away with nothing?? Unfair!!

Ok, regroup. I hit him. Not the other way round. Maybe I can get away with this - after all, he might not notice. Then I look up at the house. His face, staring at me, through his open window, tells me that I need a Plan B.

What's The Point?

She lies there, between life and death.  Sure, she breathes, she eats what is placed in her mouth.  When her father comes to visit, as he does every day, is there a glimmer of recognition?  Does her face light up, just the tiniest bit?  He'd like to think so.  He tells me, with a tremulous voice, that she squeezed his hand today.  Six months ago, she was wrested from the jaws of death, dragged from the wreckage of her car, and FORCED to stay alive, with drugs and tubes.  But, what is this life she now leads; what is the life her family now leads?

I walk down the stairs, heavy hearted, doubting myself, my purpose.  

And then I see her: Kate.  She's 19 this week.  She smiles so sweetly at me as she walks towards me, a little awkwardly, as she often is with me.  She kisses my cheek, that gentle act of tenderness.  She tells me how she has been accepted to college, and we talk about her new life, always skirting around the events of two years ago, when she, too, was dragged from a wrecked car, and from death's cold embrace.  And I know: as long as I can, I will always try.

Fight!!!

He slams his fist into the other's face repeatedly.  His opponent falls to the floor.  I glance up at them, then turn a page, slowly.  The big man picks up a chair, and brings it down towards the smaller guy's head.  Quick as a flash, he rolls away, and sweeps the big man's feet out from under him.  He comes crashing down, and lies there, still.

Suddenly, there is an explosion, and another man enters the scene.  He hurls expletives at the little guy, and runs at him, murder in his eye.  I turn another page.  The two of then are nose to nose, shouting and screaming at each other.  The crowd of people watching are in a frenzy, urging them to more violence.  One elbows the other in the face, and he falls to the ground.

Unnoticed, the big man rises to his feet, walks calmly over to the scrapping pair, and jumps onto both of them.

"One.... Two.... Three!!!"  The bell rings, signifying the end of another bout, as I continue to read my book.  Oh how I love being the medic for World Wrestling Entertainment.

Hmmm

So, call this evening to the M25, multiple car RTC, bodies strewn across the carriageway.  Driving through the rain, I get a call to update me: not required, 1 car, minor injuries only!  Hmmm